Thinking Out Loud
by SignedXoxoxoNelly
Summary: People fall in love in mysterious ways, Oliver and Felicity are no exception. Apparent opposites-the sun and the moon, black-and-white versus color-yet they understand one another in an unspoken way that requires no questioning or bargaining or definition. They found love in a hopeless place, in a thankless mission, but it's love all the same. Olicity Oneshot Collection.
1. Make It To Me

So, this is where I will be posting all of my Olicity/Arrow oneshots, any short pieces that don't fit into a longer fic will be posted here. It will probably only be updated whenever I randomly get an idea, so it might be a little infrequent. I have a few more oneshots half-written so, you never know. Also, I'm not sure yet if I'll start taking prompts, but...maybe? Until then, I hope you enjoy!

xoxoNelly

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Arrow or any of it's characters. This is purely fiction.

* * *

**Make It To Me**

**Word Count: 2,340**

* * *

Forty-seven hours ago, Felicity was taken and Oliver hasn't breathed easily since the moment she was stolen from his sight.

Her captor tells her to share her final words with her audience—the whole of Starling City. Felicity's captors has hacked into the Starling City news feeds and now her face is playing on every station on every TV in the city.

"The Green Arrow may have started this crusade alone, but now it's obvious to see he has inspired so many more people to be heroes. He's not alone anymore."

There's a tug on her blond hair that makes her wince, and Oliver winces with her as he watches her face contort on the screen. Her skin is tinged with dirt and grime and sweat, dark circles shadow her eyes and her hair is a tangled mess but she's still his Felicity—still achingly beautiful.

But he can't focus on that because she's being held hostage and the barrel of a gun is pressing against the back of her head.

"I'm not afraid to say that I've been helping the Arrow in his mission for several years now, almost since the beginning. And I have seen him transform from a misguided vigilante into a justice-seeking hero who is admired by the people of Starling City. No longer is he a killer, but a savior—compassionate and caring and generous." Another tug at her hair causes her words to cut off before she continues valiantly.

"He's inspired a whole team of other heroes, all standing for the same things he does—justice, equality, truth. He's not just a hero to Starling City, but he's my hero. And I refuse to give up his identity, or his location, regardless of what that means for my life."

She swallows thickly and Oliver matches her movements.

"_Diggle_," Oliver says his friend's name in that strained tone he takes on when someone is taking too long to get him the information he needs.

"Lyla's trying to get a location, but the guys at A.R.G.U.S. aren't—" he cuts off abruptly, his shoulders tightening as he glances back at the computer screen that Roy is seated before, trying to triangulate Felicity's position, but the tracker in her boot isn't working like it should. It's given them the wrong address four times.

Oliver turns back to the television screen before him, where Felicity is perched before him but completely out of reach. They've looked everywhere over the past forty-eight hours but have come up empty every time. Time is almost up.

There's something about her eyes though, that he can't get over. He's seen Felicity in hostage situations many times. He's seen her shaking and cowering and whimpering, fearful for her life, certain of death. He's seen her tied up and held at knife point, eyes pleading.

But her eyes now, as he stared at her face, are resolute. She's shaking, but she looks strong—tired, but strong. She's accepted this fate, he realizes, she's resigned herself to death. She's ready to die for him, to protect him.

It shocks him for a moment, because usually he is the one ready to lay down his life for her. To have the situation reversed on him causes his heart to stutter in his chest, because goddammit he _loves_ this woman, with every part of his being and he can't lose her. It's unthinkable.

"We need to find her now," he says as the timer in the corner of the screen continues to count down. They have less than ten minutes remaining to find her or she's dead.

The man holding her didn't give an ultimatum, just announced that in two days time at six o'clock in the evening, he would kill Felicity Smoak, former Queen Consolidated employee who has been aiding the Starling City vigilante for the past three and a half years. He didn't want the Arrow to reveal his identity, he didn't want a trade or a showdown, he just wanted to hurt the Arrow.

Oliver runs his hands through his hair, still in his Arrow suit, pushing his hood off his head as he stares at the screen, his eyes following the changing of the red numbers, his heart beating in time with the seconds ticking down to nothingness.

"We're trying, Oliver," Diggle responds, glancing over at his friend, seeing the tension outlined in the younger man's body. He's on the phone with Lyla, trying to see if the A.R.G.U.S. techs are having any better luck. They aren't.

"Five minutes," Oliver whispers, feeling his eyes sting.

The words are echoed by the man holding Felicity and she just swallows, not showing any sign of submission as she kneels in some dark room. She stares into the camera.

"Arrow, I know you're watching this." She takes a shuddering breath and the shaking of her body stops, her eyes suddenly strong and steely, "I don't want you to blame yourself for this. I wouldn't take back anything I've done for you or your mission in the past three years. So, whatever happens tonight, it's not your fault. My life, my choice, remember?" She closes her eyes for a moment. The timer is down to three minutes. Her eyes open again, "I know two things," she says.

Oliver's breath catches in his throat, a strangled sound leaving his lips at the familiar words they have exchanged many times in the past year and a half.

"The work I have done as a member of your team is the most important thing I've done in my life, I don't regret any of it." She pauses, "and, I still believe in you."

There are other words she doesn't say, because it would give away too much, it would give the man holding her captive too much satisfaction. She wouldn't say it out loud, on camera that she loved him, but he knew it even without her having to speak the words. It was in her eyes, in her voice, in her veiled words. In the way she held her shoulders back, the resoluteness of her blue gaze, her calm expression and her refusal to give in to the man terrorizing her and her city.

She's the hero, Oliver knows this. She's the real hero in this city, not him, not Diggle or Roy or Laurel.

It's always been Felicity.

"Oliver," Roy says from Felicity's monitors, "I can't find her."

Oliver grips the corner of the medical table where he's been on the brink of death and Felicity has brought him back many times and he knows this time he can't bring her back.

"I know," he whispers, though no one is sure if he's talking to Roy or Felicity.

Diggle's throat is tight, and Roy's jaw is set tightly, his cheek twitching as he grinds his teeth.

"_Say goodbye_," the voice of Felicity's captor sounds and the gun is pressed more forcefully against the back of her head and she shuts her eyes, pressing her lips together tightly. She's ready, and Oliver will never be ready.

"Oliver, don't watch this man," Diggle says, taking a step toward his friend. Oliver shakes his head, eyes never leaving the screen as the seconds tick down. _20...19...18. _

She lets out a shuddering breath, her face suddenly relaxing and Oliver can't fight the pride that swells inside of him at the sight of her. She is so strong.

_10...9...8..._

"Lyla?" Diggle tries one more time.

"I'm sorry John, we can't find her."

He curses under his breath before turning his eyes to the screen. Roy turns as well.

_4...3...2..._

And then the screen turns black, the lights have gone out wherever she is.

So quietly, that Oliver can barely hear it, she whispers, "I love you Oliver."

"_Felicity._"

The sound of the gunshot is heard, and Oliver's whole body jumps at the sound.

There is silence for several moments.

Oliver stumbles into the table, his knees giving out on him as he drops to the floor. Diggle turns to the table, placing his palms flat on the table's surface, bowing his head. Roy stares into his lap, fists clenched on the armrests of Felicity's chair.

Oliver's breaths are ragged as he fights back the sobs that want to break free from his chest. He feels like he can't breathe, like there's no longer a reason to.

There's a soft sound somewhere in the background, but he isn't focusing on anything but the pain in his chest.

"_Oliver_?" and then again, _"Oliver?" _

He lifts his head, eyes finding the screen once more, "Felicity?"

It's not possible, and she can't possibly hear him.

Then, the lights are back on and her face is on the screen. There are flecks of blood on her temples and her cheeks but she's breathing and he counts her breaths as he watches.

"I-I'm in the basement of an old apartment complex on the east side of the Glades, Arlington Street. The original blueprints for the complex had a basement, but the building was rebuilt after the Undertaking and the blueprints no longer show a basement."

He's out of the foundry seconds later and on his bike. He can hear sirens wailing in the distance, but he knows he will reach her first, because he has to.

He doesn't even park his bike when the building comes into view, just lets it fall to the ground once the engine dies and then he's running to the front of the building, kicking through a window. The building is mostly abandoned but there's a basement door in the ground floor apartment. He throws the doors open, descending the steps as quickly as possible.

The dim lighting and dark walls are familiar from all the time he spent studying them as he watched Felicity on the screen, but now they are physically before his eyes.

And she is there. Her hands are bound in front of her body, zip-tied together and she's breathing heavily. Hanging limply from her hands is a gun. At the sound of someone else in the room she turns, lifting the gun to aim at him.

He steps out of the shadows and she lets out a sob, the gun dropping from her hands.

Her captor lays in a pool of blood beside her, the camera he had been using to film her is lying on the ground, smashed to pieces. There is blood staining her bare knees and splattered across her face and shirt. Just from the scene before him he can guess what happened.

He's on his knees in front of her before another second passes, his gloved hand on her cheek.

Her eyes stare up at him, "I-I killed him."

He doesn't glance at the body of the man she's referring to, "you didn't have a choice."

"I know," she swallows as she stares at him.

Then he crushes her to him, tucking her into his chest, his face pressing into her greasy hair. He inhales deeply at her neck, the lavender scent of her shampoo soothing him. It's been too long since he last held her, since he last let his senses divulge in everything that is her.

He pulls back enough to take her lips with his, sealing their mouths together in a desperate kiss. When she opens her mouth wider to him he releases a soft sound from the back of his throat and her still-bound hands lift to grasp at his jacket.

"I want to go home, Oliver," she whispers, pulling back and he nods, pulling a small blade from his boot and cutting the zip-tie that holds her wrists together. He takes her wrists into his hands, rubbing them softly, his thumbs tracing over the chafed skin before his eyes lift to hers. She's watching his face carefully, still holding herself together valiantly.

"I love you," he whispers in a hoarse voice.

"I love you," she replies immediately and then he swoops her into his arms.

As he carries her out of the abandoned building he ignores the police and the media gathered outside the building. He nods to Captain Lance who stands in the main entrance way of the apartment building.

"Head out the back," he says, "I'll keep them distracted."

He takes her home, where Diggle and Roy are anxiously waiting. He cares for her wounds and then wraps her in a warm blanket. He sits with her on his cot in the foundry where he had proposed six months earlier.

"I promise to not get kidnapped again before the wedding," she whispers as she leans against his shoulder.

He lets out a long sigh before wrapping an arm around her, "well I don't plan on letting you out of my sight for the next twenty-four hours, so that shouldn't be a problem."

She smiles softly before turning her head and kissing his shoulder. "I love you."

He tilts his head to meet her gaze, "and I love you."

They marry each other the next day in the evening. The ceremony is small, and no one questions the lace gloves she wears. Oliver's vows are surprisingly poetic and Felicity cries. He kisses her breathless, Diggle, Roy, Lyla, Laurel, Thea and Barry all whooping enthusiastically as the newly married couple breaks apart, smiling.

He repeats his vows to her almost daily.

"I know two things," he says, "I would not be who I am today without you."

"And the second thing?"

"I love you, Felicity Queen."

And she repeats her vows to him almost daily.

"I know two things," she begins, "I will never leave you or stop believing in you."

She smiles as he waits for the second thing, "and I love you."

And so they love each other, simple and complicated, for years.

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_For those of you interested in any updates on my multi-chaptered fics, you can check out my profile! I keep that pretty up-to-date on what I've currently got in the works. I'm currently editing the first chapter of a new post-3x09 fic, so be looking for that soon! xo_


	2. The Dish & Her Spoon

_A/N: I have no idea where this came from, but it's fluffy and cute and I liked it. And I don't think we'll be getting any fluff on the show for a while...so, enjoy! xoxoxNelly_

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_~x~_

**The Dish and Her Spoon**

**Word Count: 1,180**

_~x~_

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Felicity blinked her eyes as she entered into awareness, her cheek pressed down into her pillow and her head turned at an awkward angle.

She had never slept on her stomach before—not until Oliver Queen started sharing her bed.

And he didn't share it in a platonic way. No, the things they did in her bed—on her couch, on her dining room table, on top of her dresser, against the front door—were very un-platonic. And when he told her to hold onto him tight, she did, also for very un-platonic reasons.

Her heart doubled it's pace when she felt Oliver's stubble-covered cheek nuzzle against the back of her neck, his mouth ghosting along the hair at her nape, his arms curling around her waist.

She would have never imagined it—not with Ollie the commitment afraid playboy, or Oliver the detached, perpetually late CEO, or Arrow the disciplined, self-sacrificial vigilante-turned-hero—that Oliver Queen was a snuggler.

He used her as a glorified pillow nightly, and he mostly preferred laying his head on her back or shoulder, with his body curled completely around her, his naked chest always pressed against her in the most seductive of ways.

"Good morning," he whispered softly as he ducked his head to press a kiss between her shoulder blades.

She turned her head, hearing her neck creak slightly as she did, to look in the direction he was laying. "Morning," she huffed.

He continued to trail kisses down her spine until she lifted her head up, stretching her neck at an odd angle to catch his eyes. She felt him shift above her, leaning over her, one arm on either side of her. He ducked down, placing his mouth against hers in a brief kiss before dropping back down to the bed, rolling onto his back next to her.

Finally free of her personal koala she rolled onto her side so she could face him. His eyes were closed as he basked in the early morning sun and her presence. His hand was extended out towards her and slowly, she snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his arm.

He turned his head slightly, smiling at her, eyes still closed and she just continued to study him.

"You're staring, _Felicity_," he said, without needing to open his eyes. He always knew when she was staring at him—probably because she wasn't good at being subtle, and she probably stalker breathed while she did it, which was probably creepy but—

"What's on your mind?" he asked, his arm curling around her head so his forefinger could tap her temple lightly.

She wasn't smiling like he expected when he opened his eyes, causing worry to strike through him for a moment as he searched her features. He waited silently for her to answer him, concern gripping him harder the longer she took to respond.

"Am I your dish?"

She watched as a crease formed between his brows, "Uh-Felicity, what?" With furrowed brows he reached out with the arm that wasn't wrapped around her, smoothing her hair back behind her ears, letting his thumb trail down her cheek before curling his hand around her neck. He titled his head further in the pillow before he said, "explain?"

"It's just, you spoon me...a lot. So naturally, I just thought of the analogy that I'm the spoon to your dish." She paused, "and I realize how stupid this sounds outside my head so, 3...2...1." She shut her mouth resolutely, screwing her eyes shut so she didn't have to read Oliver's expression.

"_Felicity_," he said her name in that way that drove her crazy, the way that made her spine straighten and her toes curl—drawing out each syllable of her name, his tongue rolling smoothly over the word she had heard a million times in a million different ways but somehow always sounded like the first time she heard her own name when he said it.

His thumbs smoothed over her brows and then swooped to trace beneath her eyes, coaxing her to open her eyes and look at him, "hey, open your eyes."

Cautiously, she opened one eye to a sight that made her gasp slightly. Oliver's face was bathed in the sunlight filtering through her bedroom window, haloing his hair and cheek that wasn't pressed into the pillow. He was smiling at her tenderly, a smile that said she was being way-too-adorable-for-her-own-good.

She stayed silent, opening both of her eyes, as Oliver's fingers continued to map out the features of her face, sliding over the contours of her cheeks, the line of her nose, the dip beneath her bottom lip, the curve of her ear.

"You keep the nightmares away."

His voice was hoarse from sleep, or from the truth of his confession—which she wasn't expecting from Mr. Oliver I-don't-talk-about-my-feelings Queen. Either way, he swallowed thickly and searched her face as his palm settled on her jaw.

She reached her own hand out, pressing her palm to his chest, feeling his steady, calm heartbeat beneath her hand. She smiled at him, not pressuring him to continue speaking, his one sentence was enough.

But he didn't seem content to leave it there, "as long as I have you in my arms at night, I don't dream about..." he swallowed again, "the island, or Hong Kong," he stopped there and sighed heavily, "it's all better with you here." His eyebrows furrowed again, like he couldn't comprehend it, but then a relieved smile curled his lips—his real smile, showing his teeth and lifting his cheeks.

She smiled back, "okay."

His smile turned into an impish grin as he pulled her body closer to his, "and, if you hadn't noticed, I love touching you."

Her cheeks burned at his words, even though she no longer had any reason to be embarrassed for the racy images that flashed through her mind—because they were no longer fantasies but realities (that she still couldn't believe were true).

"I-I've noticed," she choked out, remembering all the lingering shoulder touches, and losing count of all the times he had cupped her cheek or her neck or held her hand tightly in his.

He rolled himself over her, hovering above her, "and that, Felicity Smoak, is why you are the dish to my spoon."

She let out a baffled laughter, looking up at the ceiling, "god, that is _so_ cheesy."

He smiled down at her even as he rolled his eyes, before ducking his head down and silencing her with a heated kiss that had her hands smoothing up the expanse of his back, pulling him down flush against her.

He let his hands slide up her legs, over her hips, along her waist, across her ribs before pulling away.

Felicity's eyes popped open with an accusatory glare.

"You were saying, Miss Smoak?" He arched a brow and smirked down at her.

She rolled her eyes, "shut up Queen, and spoon me."

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_May I be so bold as to ask for reviews? xo_


	3. In the Middle of In and Out of Love

**A/N 1: **So, after watching 3x12 I started this drabble oneshot. And I finished it shortly after watching 3x13. This oneshot takes place during the week between the two episodes to kind of explain how Felicity magically still shows up in the foundry as a member of the team in 3x13. So, this is short, it's four drabbles pasted together. Let me know what you think!

**A/N 2:** I've honestly created a 3x12 response/resolution playlist. I cannot tell you how many songs I've listened to that match the current state of Olicity. Here are a few:

"Wait For You" by Elliott Yamin, "All I Want" by Kodaline, "Beginning of the End" by Steve Moakler, "Wasting My Time" by Default, "It Ends Tonight" by the All-American Rejects, "Say You Love Me" by Jessie Ware, and "Strangers" by X Ambassadors.

Enjoy!

xoxoNelly

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters or the lyrics used.

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**Caught In the Middle of In and Out of Love**

**Word Count: 943**

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**1.**

_Your subtleties, they strangle me _

_I can't explain myself at all _

_And all the wants and all the needs_

_all I don't want to need at all_

_._

_When darkness turns to light_

_It ends tonight, it ends tonight_

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**It ends tonight.**

If he had just explained in to her, she wouldn't have walked away.

If he had just told her that he had to ask Malcolm for help in order to kill Ra's al Ghul, because if he didn't find a way to defeat the Demon, the Demon would kill her.

He couldn't lose her.

And yet, he lost her anyway.

It was an endless cycle for them. They united briefly, falling into a momentary unison that rejuvenated him in ways he could not explain. Then, they would be torn apart, by his choosing or by hers.

This is what they were, fated to hold themselves back from one another, fated to be apart regardless of how desperately they wished to be together.

* * *

**2.**

_Months went by with us pretending _

_When did our light turn from green to red?_

_I took a chance and left you standing _

_Lost the will to do this once again_

_._

_Well this is not for real, afraid to feel_

_I just hit the floor, don't ask for more _

_I'm wasting my time, I'm wasting my time_

* * *

**Wasting my time.**

If he had just realized that he was no longer the only person on this team who had a say, maybe she would have stuck around to hear him out.

If he had come to her with his uncertainty, she would have helped him develop a better plan to deal with Ra's al Ghul.

But Oliver had always been a loner: stubborn, single-minded, oblivious to how his decisions affected the emotions of others.

He was being no different now.

It didn't help that she was inextricably twisted up in knots just by Oliver himself.

She was so relieved he was alive, and so furious with him she couldn't even be happy about it.

But, she refused to stand beside him while he chose to work with a psychopathic murderer.

And she refused to let herself feel what she truly felt. She locked it away, and willed it to disappear.

It would make things easier if she could stop loving him.

* * *

**3.**

_Now I'm caught in the middle of in and out of love _

_And either way I turn, I just don't have enough_

_Between what might be and what has been _

_Feels like the beginning, feels like the beginning of the end _

_Oh, the beginning of the end_

* * *

**Beginning of the end.**

"I don't know how to live without you," Oliver confessed, his voice hoarse, his brow furrowed, leaving out his second confession, _I don't want to live without you. _

"You don't have to live without me. We can still be friends."

His chuckle was hollow and bitter and ironic because it sounded like the most cliché break up line he had ever heard.

Felicity cringed at her own words as she realized how they sounded.

"I can't just stop the way I feel." He sighed, rolling back his shoulders and lifting his head. Their eyes met, "I can't just forget how I feel about you."

_I wish you would_, she bit her lip, "I don't expect you to. But I can't be anything more to you than just a friend, or a," she swallowed the word _partner_, "a co-worker."

Oliver's jaw twinged and his eyes left hers again, because of course he realized what she had begun to say, of course he realized what she had stopped herself from saying.

_Partners _was too intimate for what she wanted.

He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, his eyes on the floor, his thumb and forefinger rubbing together as he nodded quickly, "I understand."

She watched him walk away.

She didn't follow after him. She was done following Oliver's lead.

She was following herself this time.

* * *

**4.**

_I remember it now, it takes me back to when it all first started _

_But I've only got myself to blame for it, and I accept it now _

_It's time to let it go, go out and start again _

_But it's not that easy_

_._

_But I've got high hopes, it takes me back to when we started _

_high hopes, when you let it go, go out and start again _

_High hopes, when it all comes to an end _

_But the world keeps spinning around _

* * *

**High hopes.**

He glanced up suddenly when Felicity set her purse down heavily on her desk in the foundry.

"I'm not abandoning the team." She said, her expression resolute, her blue eyes hard as she looked at him.

He swallowed and nodded once, "I'm glad."

She pressed her lips together into a thin line as he stood, his body tensing and releasing with his movements, a relieved grace.

"The team needs you."

"I know, but just because I'm here doesn't mean I'm suddenly okay with what you're doing."

"I understand your opinion on the matter." He nodded once.

"Good." She said, with a slight bob of her chin, "I'll get to work then."

Oliver stepped away from her desk, turning her chair so she could sit in it.

There eyes met as she moved to sit down, and an infinite sadness radiated off him.

He turned away, ignoring Diggle's glance as he moved over to his Arrow suit, opening the case and removing his leathers.

The team would move on.

He would not move on. He would bury his heartache deep beneath his mask. Beneath his hood.

* * *

**A/N 3: **for those of you who read Come As You Are (As You Were) and are wondering where Part 3 is, it's coming! I promise! I've encountered so many issues with the final part of that fic, but I've finally got a solid idea and I'm working on it! I hope to have it up by the end of the week! xo


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